Campaign of Fire
by Empress Dots
Summary: [AU, title subject to change] For eons, the people of Elibe have honored dragons as gods of both creation and destruction. When two young dragons end up in the human realm by accident, war erupts. [Chapter 2 up]
1. A Premonition

**Do not own original story of FE.**

**A/N:** My first FE AU (and one of the few in the fandom!)

This is a weird idea I had to redo the story of Fire Emblem with different roles, angles, and ideas. The basic setting is the same—the world of Elibe.

Also, the title is subject to change.

-

"Good evening, your Highness."

"Marcus." Eliwood was looking out the window, a slight breeze ruffling his bright red hair. "How long until Mother and Father come home?"

"I don't know, Highness." Marcus walked over to where Eliwood stood, gazing at the darkening sky. Sunset lingered in the air, painting the sky red and gold, but the colors were fading into shades of violet and black as the sun sank behind the mountains.

"They've been gone for two weeks, Marcus," Eliwood said as he leaned out the window, resting his elbows on the stone as he studied the castle grounds below his window.

"It's only to be expected, Highness; they _are_ in Bern, after all. It's a fair distance from here, even by carriage. They likely only arrived in Bern a short time ago."

"I know, I know," Eliwood interrupted as he turned away from the window after pulling the shutters closed. "I just get worried sometimes."

"It's your way, Highness," Marcus said with a soft chuckle. "You do have the tendency to get worried over even the silliest of things. It's one of your quirks, I suppose."

Eliwood returned Marcus's laugh. "I suppose you're right, Marcus. I do tend to worry a bit much."

"A bit _too_ much, I think, your Highness, and it can't be good for you, if you don't mind my saying so."

"Not at all." Eliwood stepped into a small room connected to his own and emerged in a red dressing gown as opposed the white tunic and red cape that he usually wore around court. "I was going to ask you if you knew how long Sir Oswin and Hector would be gone."

Marcus scowled. "No, Highness, I don't. And frankly, Sir Hector can stay out there as long as he wishes for all I care."

"Marcus, be civil," Eliwood said. "I know that you do not get along with Hector, but he is still a close friend to me, not to mention my bodyguard. I do not want there to be arguments among my own escorts."

"As you wish, Lord Eliwood," Marcus muttered, "but I do not see why that boy is allowed to speak to you as if you and he were of the same class. You are royalty, after all, and, Prince Eliwood—"

"Marcus," Eliwood interrupted. "For all we know, Hector could be royalty as well. I mean, Father found him alone, Marcus. No family anywhere in sight. For all we know he could be heir to one of the other kingdoms. Father did find him fairly close to the borders of Ilia." He shook his head slightly. "And besides that, Marcus, he's like a brother to me, not to mention my closest friend."

"I suppose you're right, Highness," Marcus said. "I will do my best to be civil with Sir Hector."

"That is all I ask. So, _do _you have any idea when they will be back?"

"As I said, your Highness, I don't know. Sir Oswin was taking Sir Hector into the mountains for a bit of isolated training. All that Sir Oswin told me was that they would come back when he was confident Sir Hector had learned what he needed to know."

Eliwood laughed again. "So there are things in the fighting arts that even Hector does not know? Oh, I would like to see them!"

"There is no such thing as a master fighter, my Prince. There are only warriors who have—"

They were interrupted by a flash of white light that cut through the small openings in the shutters. The light was bright enough that even the small amount that shone through the shutters left spots dancing in Eliwood's eyes.

In an instant, the light was gone, and Marcus ran to the window. He flung open the shutters and studied the night sky carefully.

"What was it, Marcus?" Eliwood asked, rubbing at one of his eyes as he walked to Marcus's side.

"I don't know, your Highness," Marcus replied. "But whatever it was, it seems like it has passed now—"

Another flash of light lit the landscape; had Eliwood not known better, he would have thought it to be lightning. As it was, though, no clouds were anywhere in sight, and Eliwood had heard no thunder. If the light was from lightning, it was most certainly magical.

Marcus leaned back, shielding his eyes, but Eliwood did the exact opposite. He leaned forward, squinting against the light as he struggled to see a vague outline in the distance. He could make out a faint outline of pale wings against the background of white, and somewhere, staring out at him from within the light, was a pair of red eyes.

The light faded within another instant. Eliwood blinked; his vision was filled with multicolored spots, but he could still see the red eyes in the center of his vision.

"What _was_ that?" he managed to say.

Marcus blinked a few times to clear his own vision. "I've no idea, your Highness. I haven't ever seen anything of that sort in all my years of service to Lycia."

Eliwood rubbed his forehead and attempted to blink the spots in his vision away. They dispelled with little effort, but he could still make out the red eyes, as if they were burned into the undersides of his eyelids.

"Well, it looks like we're both at a loss, then," he said. _"I _certainly don't know what it is, and you don't seem to know, either.

"I swear on my honor that I do not, Highness." Marcus pulled the shutter closed again and stepped away from the window. He turned to make eye contact with Eliwood; in Eliwood's vision, his eyes glowed red. "Do not worry yourself, my prince. Whatever it was, it has passed now."

"Has it?" Eliwood muttered, staring at Marcus for another moment before quickly turning away.

Even then, the red eyes remained, watching him from the very walls of his bedroom.

"I am tired, Marcus; would you mind leaving me so that I may sleep?" Eliwood asked.

"Not at all, your Highness." Marcus bowed before walking to the door. "Sweet dreams."

He pulled the door closed, and Eliwood sank onto his bed and stared at the eyes. They stared right back at him.

"It is only an after-image," he told himself. "They will be gone by the morning; I needn't worry. A bit of sleep will solve the problem."

He climbed into bed and closed his eyes, and the red eyes watched him from underneath his eyelids.

-

"Your problem, Hector, is that you are too impatient with how you wield your axe," Oswin said, spinning his lance idly. "Hastiness will only make you hurt yourself and possibly those who mean you no harm."

"I know how to use an axe, Oswin," Hector muttered. "Your skill is with the lance, so why don't you just stick to it instead of telling me what to do all the time?"

With that, he raised his axe above his head and let out a yell before bringing it down to split a log in two.

"Besides that," he said, "I don't see why I have to use a perfectly good axe to cut firewood. It's dulling the edge, Oswin! And this is a battle-axe, too!"

"You need to learn patience, Hector," Oswin said. "You have great skill when it comes to fighting well and hard, but sometimes the key to defeating an opponent is to outwit them, not to cut them down in one swipe. You'll find that you move slower than the swordsmen you encounter, but if you can simply outwait them, or trick them into doing something stupid—"

"Yes, yes, I know already," Hector huffed, placing another log on the stump. He raised his axe, yelled, and cut the log in two as he had the one before it. "You know I hate lecturing, so just be quiet already. I know what I'm doing."

"If the prince gets killed because of your folly, you will likely be executed," Oswin said. "Has that occurred to you?"

"Yes, many times." Grunt, yell, strike. "But I don't see why it should matter." Grunt, yell, strike. "After all, I'm one of the finest axe-wielders in Lycia. You said so personally."

"Talent and skill are not the same thing," Oswin said. "That should be enough firewood. Bring it here and we'll cook dinner."

Hector left his axe near the stump and hauled the split logs over to Oswin.

"And not only are you impatient, Hector, but you've no idea how to survive on your own," Oswin said.

"Excuse me, Oswin, but who was the one cutting the firewood here?"

"Hector, you don't know how to hunt or forage, you can't disguise your own tracks, and you're horribly loud when you move. Even I make less noise, and look at my armor! If you and the prince had to flee Lycia for some reason, you'd be shot in ten minutes!"

Hector scowled. "Would not."

"As you say," Oswin sighed and pulled his flint and steel from the bags he had brought along. "Hector, arrange the firewood in kind of a pyramid shape—yes, sort of like—perfect. And grab me some tinder—dry grass, or twigs, something small that sets fire easily—"

There was a sudden flash of light which filled the whole of the clearing they were in; Oswin cried out and dropped the flint and steel. Hector stood up and reached for his axe—he usually kept it at his side, but when his hands met air, re remembered that it was still at the stump he had chopped the wood on. He turned and lunged for it.

As his hand connected with the handle, the light faded away suddenly. Hector blinked.

Oswin, meanwhile, swore, and started looking frantically for the flint and steel that he had dropped. He was not as young as he used to be, and his vision was thereby less adequate at night than it should have been.

"Here, Oswin, let me help you," Hector said, starting to walk over to Oswin. Oswin looked up and nodded, a smile on his face.

And there was another flash of light. Hector stumbled and swore under his breath; Oswin looked up and shielded his eyes.

It was gone in an instant. Hector stared up at the sky. Oswin, meanwhile, returned his attention to the grass to search for the flint and steel.

"What in Roland's name was that?" Hector muttered as he sat down. He turned to look at Oswin, but stopped midway. "Er . . . Oswin?"

"I'm a bit busy right now, Hector," Oswin said, continuing his search. "And whatever happened to your offer to help me?"

"Oswin, I think maybe you should—"

"Don't go telling me what to do, I'm your senior, after all," Oswin snapped. He continued looking for the flint and steel in the darkness.

"Oswin, I'm serious, there's something you should—"

"Aha! Found it!" Oswin sat up, clutching the flint and steel triumphantly. He turned to look at Hector. "Now, what was it that you needed to . . ."

He trailed off as he caught sight of the firewood; it was already blazing, the flames dancing over the wood.

He dropped the flint and steel again.

"How did that—who lit the—what happened?"

"I don't know," Hector said. "I just know that after those flashes of light, I looked and the fire had already been lit."

Oswin suddenly went stiff.

"Oswin? Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing," Oswin replied, not looking at Hector as he replied. "I just think I might know what caused those lights, and the Prince and Sir Marcus will need to know about it.

Hector grimaced. "Why Sir Marcus, with all due respect? I mean, I don't want to sound like an ass, but I can't stand him."

"It's just something they need to know, Hector. Trust me on this one," Oswin said. He leaned his lance against a nearby tree and began unbuckling his thick outer coat of armor. "Tomorrow we go back to the castle. We've no time to waste. If this is what I think it is, then his Highness needs to know soon—immediately, if possible."

Hector shrugged. "If you say so, Oswin." He laid his axe down and began taking off his own armor. "What _do_ you think it is, anyway?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow," Oswin said, removing his sub-coat of armor. "Right now, we need rest, so we can wake early and go back to the castle first thing tomorrow."

"If it's so important, why don't we just go right now?" Hector pulled the two bedrolls from his pack and tossed one of them to Oswin, who grunted in thanks.

"It's late, we've been working all day, and we're both tired," Oswin said. "To travel now would be to invite disaster—we'd be sitting ducks for bandits. No, we best travel in daylight, when we can see and have been rested."

"Whatever you say, Oswin," Hector said, laying out his bedroll and climbing into it. He let out a yawn. "In the morning, then."

"Yes, in the morning," Oswin replied. "Good night, Hector."

"G'night," Hector mumbled.

Within a few minutes the two were asleep; a dark-haired person watched them for a few minutes before jumping down, rifling through their bags, and producing a round white gem.

"I don't think this is the thing Lord Nergal wants," the person muttered in a woman's voice, "but if not, I can always sell it for a decent amount of money." She tucked the gem into her pocket.

Oswin rolled over in his sleep, and the thief stiffened and watched him. He muttered something and settled back into his bedroll, and the thief let out a sigh of relief. She adjusted her gloves, took a deep breath, and started running, her long red ponytail waving behind her as she faded into the trees.


	2. Prepare to Charge

"I'll give you three thousand for it."

"Of course, sir!" The merchant scrabbled with the money offered him, and handed over the sword with little hesitation. "Always a pleasure doing business with you!"

He nodded and took the sword, tying it loosely to his belt. He had been needing a decent Lancereaver for some time now, but the city was hardly full of the things. For months he had been searching, finding nothing, and now, when he did find one, it was overpriced.

No rest for the wicked.

Raymond of Cornwell walked the streets of the Ostian castle town, keeping an eye out for anything else of interest. A new pair of gloves would not go amiss, and his leather armor was getting fairly worn out.

The song of a flute caught his attention, and he turned to see a small boy sitting on a stool. He was sitting at the side of the street, wedged between merchants, with a small bowl before him. Besides a few copper coins, the bowl was empty.

The boy couldn't have been any more than twelve, possibly fourteen, Raymond thought as he watched him play. His hair was a light teal, suggesting Ilian heritage, and his eyes were closed as he played. A battered yellow scarf was around his neck, and his clothes were in general disrepair. He didn't look exactly healthy, for that matter, either.

Raymond walked up to him, and waited until he was finished playing before he spoke. "Are you hungry?"

"Sir?" The boy looked up, eyes open to reveal a startling hue of red.

"You look like you haven't eaten in a bit," Raymond said. "I could get you something to eat if you'd like. And we should probably do something about your clothes."

"Sir, it's fine, really," the boy said. "If you'd just give me a few coins, I would be fine."

"Come now, it's not often that I'm this kind," Raymond said. "My name is Raven. I'm a soldier in the castle guard." He had kept his real name secret for some time; he didn't want to be found out. "Come on, and I'll buy you something to eat."

"I'm Nils," the boy said. "You really don't have to do this. I mean, I would be fine if you just—"

"I got the message already, Nils. You're coming to eat with me, got it?"

"Y-yes sir."

Raven gestured and led him through the streets of the castle town to a small pub he knew well. He had been here before, often when he was trying to drink away the memories. Their food was good; their beer better. But now wasn't the time to get drunk.

"What would you like to eat?"

"Just some bread," Nils said softly. "And maybe a bit of cheese."

"What? No meat?"

"I wouldn't want to trouble you," Nils muttered.

"You're not troubling me. I have enough money. Go on, get some beef or pork or something."

Nils looked up, his red eyes surveying Raven for a moment before he nodded. "Can I have a bit of chicken, maybe?"

"Sure thing." Raven walked up to the bar and ordered the chicken with some potatoes, along with a plate of fish for himself with some rice on the side. He sat down, and Nils did the same.

"I haven't seen you around the town before," he said. "You new here?"

"Yes, I only arrived in Ostia a few nights ago," Nils said. "I was in Etruria for a while before then, and even before that I was on the Western Isles."

"The Western Isles, huh? A pirate in disguise, are you?"

Nils shook his head. "My sister and I were traveling together for some time," he said, looking down at his hands. "I would play music, and she would dance. We got separated a few nights ago, though, when . . ." he trailed off.

"That night the lights appeared in the sky?" Raven asked, leaning forward on one elbow.

Nils looked up. "You saw that?"

"Kid, there wasn't a waking soul in Lycia that _didn't_ see it," Raven said.

"Do you have any idea where it came from?" Nils asked.

"Came from? Not a clue. I just saw the blasted thing blanket the sky. Twice. Left me seeing spots while I slept."

"Oh," Nils said. "I was just wondering, because if I knew where it came from, then maybe . . ."

"You honestly think your sister went toward wherever that light came from?" Raven sat back and motioned for a glass of wine for himself and some milk for Nils.

"I don't know," Nils said. "I hope she did. I don't know where else she could have gone."

Raven leaned forward and shook his head. "Easy, kid, don't get upset. You'll find her."

Nils looked up, surveying him once more with those crimson eyes. "You don't usually do things like this for people," he said. It was not a question.

"You're right, I don't." Raven nodded to the bartender as he set down the glasses of wine and milk.

"Then why for me?" Nils asked.

"I had a friend some time ago," Raven said, looking away from Nils, "who told me that those in need were the people I should concentrate on helping. He said that I would be happier and safer if I were to just help those who needed it most."

"He sounds like a very kind person," Nils said.

"He is," Raven replied. "I have not seen him in a while, but I like to think that if he was here with me, he might be happy because I am helping you."

"I think he would," Nils said, then turned to the bar and picked up his glass of milk.

Raven said nothing, merely gave Nils a small nod.

_I wonder how he's doing right now, anyway._

-

"Florina."

"Ah, Fiora!" Florina whirled around, her hands clutched to her chest. The captain's badge glinted in the winter sun. Fiora tried not to look at it.

"I was just coming to see if you wanted to fly with me back to camp," she said. "It's been a while since we've flown together, you and I, and I thought that maybe . . ."

"Hey, Florina!"

"Farina!" Florina squeaked as Farina tackled her, sending them both falling into the snow. Their respective pegasi snorted as their owners giggled, soaked after rising from the snow.

"You two," Fiora muttered, shaking her head. "Nothing but trouble . . ."

"Oh, and you're any better?" With that, Farina grabbed onto both of her sisters and dove into another fairly large snow bank. Fiora struggled against Farina, but Farina held tight as all three of them collapsed into the snow.

"Farina! When did you get home?" Florina asked.

"Just now, actually! I heard you got promoted and figured I'd go looking for you to congratulate you!" Farina stood back up, extending a hand to each of her sisters. Florina took the offered hand, but Fiora laid in the snow a while longer.

"I thought Fiora was going to be promoted," Florina stammered. "She deserves it more than I do."

Fiora was silent, her eyes on Florina's badge as the sunlight reflected off of it.

"Don't be silly, Florina, of course you deserve it!" Farina said, nudging Florina in the ribs with one elbow. "You're my little sister, after all! You learned from the best of the best!"

Florina blushed. "You're being too kind, Farina . . . I'm not that good a knight . . . honestly."

"Quit being modest!" Farina said with a grin. She turned again to Fiora and offered her hand once again. This time, Fiora took it.

"That's not all I came to tell you about!" Farina said, turning to Florina once again. "It turns out that I've been reassigned! I'll be joining your company as of tomorrow morning!"

"Oh, Farina, truly?" Florina's eyes shone.

"Of course I'm being honest, Florina! Would I lie to my younger sister?"

"Oh, Farina . . . !" At this, Florina cupped her face in her hands.

"Oh, there you go, crying again." Farina shook her head, still smiling as she pulled Florina into a hug. "You can't keep crying all the time now that you're the captain of your squad, Florina! What will people think?"

"I'm sorry, Farina, it's just that I'm so happy that I can fly alongside you again," Florina muttered into Farina's shoulder.

"You're not supposed to cry when you're happy, Florina, you're supposed to smile!" Farina said, giving her a wide grin. "Like this, see?"

Florina stifled a giggle.

"How about we all fly back to camp for some lunch together?" Fiora said, smiling. "We can catch up and talk about old times if you'd like."

"Sounds good to me!" Farina stepped away from Florina, walking over to her pegasus, Murphy, and stroking his nose. "I'm starved! We flew all night to get back, so I could sure use a meal!"

"I'm kind of hungry, too," Florina said.

"Well, then, it's settled! How about you lead the way back to camp?"

"Are you sure, Farina? You're the highest-ranked of us . . ."

"I was until a few days ago when you got promoted! Now you are, Florina! So lead the cay, captain."

Florina mounted her pegasus, Huey, and gave her sisters a small nod. "All right, I guess so." She let Huey gallop a little before he flapped his wings and took off into the blue of the Ilian sky. Farina mounted Murphy in an instant and followed.

Fiora took a bit longer to mount her pegasus, but she followed.

Even as they flew, the glint of light on the captain's badge Florina wore distracted her.

She pretended not to see it.

They spent at least an hour at the camp sitting together and eating as Farina told her sisters all about her job, describing the flight in terms that made Florina gasp and lean forward. Things only got more exciting when Farina described the battle against what she called "a gnarled group of scurvy, grinning pirates." At one point, Farina's descriptions became so fierce that Florina yelped and clung to Fiora, who laughed.

"That was _wonderful,_ Farina," Fiora said when the story was done. "It's not a wonder you make so much money!"

"Speaking of that, Farina, are you keeping your same rate since you're coming to my squadron?" Florina asked, sitting up straight.

Farina leaned back and said nothing, just grinned at them as she cupped her hands behind her head.

"You're not, are you," Fiora muttered.

"Nope, but that's fine!" Farina replied. "After all, I get to be with my sisters again!"

"Oh, but Farina, I feel horrible," Florina stammered, looking down at her lap. "Are you sure there's not anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"Florina, you worry too much," Farina said, leaning forward again. "Really, I'm fine, all right?"

"No, Farina, I insist. There's got to be something that I can do for you."

"Florina, really—"

"No, Farina, I insist."

"Wow, so you _can_ be stubborn." Florina studied her sister's face, flicking some of her blue hair out of her eyes. "All right, Florina, but I'm only going to take the smallest raise you can give me, all right? The smallest."

"I can give you a raise of only ten coins, Farina, is that—"

"Only ten? Ah, Florina, you don't know how to negotiate! How about one hundred, or better yet, two?"

"A-all right, I will."

"That's the spirit."

_"Farina,"_ Fiora groaned.

"What? As long as she's offering, I may as well take what I can get, right?"

"Captain!" A young knight came running to Florina, her long hair fanning out behind her. "Captain, we have orders from the commander of the First Squadron!"

Florina blinked before she did her best to snap to attention. "What are the orders?"

The girl handed her a scroll, bowed, and ran off. Florina cracked the wax seal and unrolled the parchment, reading it quickly.

"Florina, what is it?" Fiora asked.

Florina looked up. "Fiora, could you . . . would you mind getting the rest of the company together? They all need to hear this."

"Of course I'll do it, Florina. What are the orders?"

Florina took a deep, shaking breath. "We're to head to Sacae tomorrow at daybreak. From there, we attack Bern."

"What?" Farina asked. "Bern? But they've employed us before! They've employed _me_ before! Why are we attacking Bern?"

"I don't know," Florina said. "Excuse me. I need to prepare to tell the company what's going on."

She bowed to her sisters and walked hurriedly toward her tent in the corner of the camp.

"Huh. Attacking Bern," Farina muttered. "I guess it was bound to happen sometime."

"But Florina heading our unit?" Fiora asked. "She's too frail for such a thing. I don't know if she can be assertive enough to guide the soldiers."

"She'll do it," Farina said. "She's our sister, after all.

"You're right," Fiora said, looking down.

Even though Florina was nowhere in sight, the image of the captain's badge still lingered in her mind, and she hated it.

-

"This is not what I want. This is a mere white gem. I need a _dragonstone,_ Leila. You will know it when you see it."

Leila knelt on the stone floor of the castle, eyes downcast. "Forgive me, my lord, but that was the only kind of stone that they had. I believe the dragonstone must be in the castle."

"Well, then, take Matthew and Hurricane and go to the castle," the robed man snapped, throwing the white gem back at her. It hit her shoulder and bounced off, landing on the floor. "It has to be somewhere! And I need it!"

"My lord, with all due respect, aren't there other ways you could—"

The man leaned down, sneering as he narrowed his visible eye. "Some other way? Leila, you know nothing of what I even intend to do, much less how I intend to do it. I know exactly what I am doing, and I highly suggest that you be quiet."

"As you wish, lord," Leila muttered, looking away from him.

"You are dismissed," the man said, turning away from Leila. She stood and walked out.

Matthew met her in the hallway. "How was Lord Nergal?" he asked.

"Not in a good mood, but then again, that's to be expected," Leila muttered. "He's never in a good mood, after all."

"Ah, I suppose not," Matthew said, putting one arm around her shoulders as they walked back toward the mess hall.

"You, I, and Hurricane are to look in the castle," Leila said. "Lord Nergal thinks what he wants might be in there."

"I still don't know how we're supposed to find it when we don't even know what it is or what it looks like," Matthew muttered. "And you and I could do perfectly well on our own, with or without Hurricane."

He tightened his grip on her.

"Matthew, can't you ever draw a line between work and personal matters?" Leila asked with a laugh.

Matthew gave her his trademark grin, the one that wrinkled his whole face and made his eyes sparkle. "Ah, but Leila, when you're about, there's not a line to be drawn!"

"If you two are quite finished," a dry voice interrupted.

Matthew straightened and gave a nod to the man who greeted them. "Hurricane."

Hurricane tossed some of his long lavender hair over one shoulder. "What's this I heard about a castle?"

"Lord Nergal wants the three of us to storm the castle where the Lycian royal family stays," Leila said. "More nonsense about this dragonstone of his."

"I see," Hurricane said. He stretched, raising his arms over his head and leaning back. "Well, how about we leave in the morning? Likely it's not long before our Lycian base is found out anyway. May as well go out with a bang."

"We're not going to fall," Matthew said. "In fact, I'll bet you a new set of lockpicks that I find the dragonstone there before you do."

Hurricane smirked. "You're on."

Leila just stood back and sighed.

-

In the midst of Missur was a vast desert called the Nabata. It was commonly known to travelers as a place to go if you wanted to die quickly and painfully.

A girl with pale hair and skin wandered its dunes, surveying them with red eyes. Her dress was torn and shabby, and she swayed as she walked, barely managing to stagger in the thick sands.

"It's hot," she muttered.

And she collapsed, eyes closing as she hit the sand.

A man emerged seemingly from the air of the desert, striding toward her. He had a massive axe in hand, and strange patterns were painted on his chest and face.

He looked at her for a moment, looked toward the west, and shook his head. He strapped the axe he held to his back.

He picked the girl up and carried her east.


End file.
